Thunderclouds
by Harper Sy
Summary: One, two, melatonin is coming for you. Three, four, baby won't you lock the door? Five, six, I'm done with it. Seven, eight, it's getting late, so close your eyes, sleep for days. -Melanie Martinez
1. Chapter 1: Jerilyn Katiana Sinclair

_You're sayin' those words like you hate me now (Wo-oah),_

 _Our house is burning when you're raisin' hell (Wo-oah),_

 _Here in the ashes your soul cries out,_

 _Don't be afraid of these thunderclouds_

-Thunderclouds; **by Labrinth, Sia, and Diplo**

* * *

Sophia sat forward in her seat, her elbows resting on her thighs as she studied the man in front of her. He was older, bald, and sat in a mechanical wheelchair. He looked kind, almost grandfatherly, but Sophia could sense there was something else about him. Something almost unnatural. Was she right to make an assumption like that? It felt a bit rude, but she couldn't say for sure.

Letting out a shaky breath, Sophia looked down for a moment. She had to take into account everything she'd been told. It would make sense, but she still couldn't believe it. Nothing about what she'd gone through — what her _daughter_ had gone through — seemed real. It had to be a nightmare of some kind. Right?

"Ms. Sinclair," the man said, his voice laced with a British accent. "Do you have any questions?"

Swallowing thickly, Sophia nodded. "Will you be able to fix my daughter?" she rasped.

His eyebrows raised in alarm. "Your daughter isn't broken, Ms. Sinclair," he stated. "She's anything _but_."

Shaking her head, Sophia ran a hand through her hair. "She wasn't like this," she said. "She was normal before. She was _human_."

"Your daughter was born with the X-Gene; she was born a mutant. Her powers didn't manifest until she hit puberty, a common sign in others her age."

"Why did it have to be _my_ child?"

"The X-Gene is unpredictable at best," he answered. "It's hard to say when it will appear."*

"Unpredictable. . .," Sophia murmured. Letting out a sharp, almost humorless, chuckle, she ran her hand through her hair again. "I-I don't know. Do what you want with her, I don't care anymore."

"Ms. Sinclair, it's important to understand that Jerilyn is _still_ your child," he exclaimed. "You shouldn't treat her any differently because, now, she has powers."

"She's not my little girl anymore," Sophia said. "My little girl was sweet and happy. Not some _freak_."

A saddened look came across his face. "Would you mind if I spoke to Jerilyn for a little bit?" he asked. "I'd like to familiarize myself with her."

Nodding, Sophia stood up to go get her daughter.

 **°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°**

There was something oddly fascinating about blood. The color, the coppery smell and taste, the overall _feel_ of it. Jerilyn knew that her thoughts on the substance was in no way _normal_ , but she didn't mind. She still found herself intrigued by it. Blood, in her mind, was complex and mysterious. All living beings had blood. They _needed_ blood in order to survive. If too much blood was lost, then the beings would die. But in Jerilyn's case, she felt like her relationship with the red, coppery liquid was different.

Taking a thumbtack, she pricked her forefinger, watching as a red drop of blood oozed out. Narrowing her eyes a little, Jerilyn focused on that drop of blood. Almost immediately, the drop started extending outward, shifting and twisting about. It moved like it had a mind of its own, as if it were curious about the world around it, but Jerilyn knew better. The reason her blood moved in such a manner was because she controlled it. And if she could do that with just a little bit from a pricked finger, then God only knows what she could do with a bigger opening.

Focusing even more, Jerilyn felt her brows furrowing and her lips pursing tightly. She wanted to see _just_ how far she could take it. And it seemed to work, too. The harder Jerilyn focused, the more changes seemed to occur. The blood twisted around until it became a point. It looked almost like a thorn, jutting out long and firm at the tip of her finger.

"I can't believe it," Jerilyn murmured. "I just can't believe it."

The blood went from its thorn-like appearance, back to a more fluid state. It moved with ease, becoming longer and more _elegant_. In Jerilyn's eyes, it was _amazing_.

But a knock on the door broke Jerilyn's concentration. Letting out a startled gasp at the sharp knocks, she watched in horror as the string of blood spattered on her bed sheets. Not long after, an ache pulsed throughout Jerilyn's finger. That sensation was incredibly mild, compared to other cuts the teen made.

"What?" Jerilyn called.

"I need you downstairs." Sophia. The teen's brows furrowed. She'd been told specifically to stay in her room no matter what. Why the sudden change?

"Is there something wrong?" Jerilyn asked.

"Just come downstairs, please."

 **°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°**

Jerilyn had to admit she was surprised. She never would've guessed the reason she had to go downstairs was because of some old man. He gave off a grandfatherly vibe, one Jerilyn found welcoming yet suspicious. No one could come off that warm and welcoming without wanting something in return.

"Hello, Jerilyn," he stated, a British accent lacing his words. "My name is Charles Xavier. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He extended his hand, a welcoming expression on his face. Again, that seemed to raise Jerilyn's suspicions.

But, at the same time, the teen had to remember her manners. Her mother taught her to be respectful to those around her, and if some mysterious old man was going to introduce himself to her, Jerilyn knew she'd have to do the same. Firmly shaking his hand, the teen looked him in the eyes, her mouth set and her gaze focused.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Jerilyn responded. "I'd tell you my name, but it seems you already know it."

With a chuckle, Charles nodded. "I'd like to have a talk with you," he responded, folding his hands on his lap.

Sitting down on the sofa, Jerilyn studied Charles carefully. She took note of how articulate he was, how he seemed to clearly state what he wanted to say. That was more than the teen could ever do. She always stumbled over her words, taking a moment to really figure out what she wanted to say. Charles was very matter-of-fact.

"What is there to talk about?" Jerilyn asked.

"Your mutation."

Furrowing her brows, the teen felt her lips purse. _Mutation_? She'd never heard that word as a description for herself before. It made her blood boil somewhat. To be called a mutant, in any shape or form, seemed to be insinuating some kind of insult. And if Charles was in some way trying to insult Jerilyn, she'd let him have it without even hesitating.

"I don't have a mutation," she exclaimed. "So wherever you're going with this, you can. . ."

"I can assure you, Jerilyn," Charles interrupted, "you are, in fact, a mutant. It is a common trait rising more and more in today's youths."*

Glaring at the older man, the teen felt her skin crawl at the word. She couldn't handle the thought of being called anything but human.

 _But how many humans are capable of controlling blood?_ Jerilyn thought. _That doesn't seem very natural in ordinary people._

Normal. It was a word Jerilyn desperately tried to fit into. Her mother always talked about wanting a nice, healthy, _normal_ family; so when the teen's blood abilities started manifesting, things started to change drastically. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything felt like it was crumbling in Sophia's eyes; but the mother never took into account the toll it was taking on Jerilyn.

"There is nothing wrong with being a mutant," Charles went on. "It is simply what we're meant to be. For me, I find it to be helpful to find newly developed mutants and help them grow into their powers. The sooner we can control our gifts, the sooner we can go back into the world."

Jerilyn's brows furrowed. Was Charles telling the truth? She didn't know; she wasn't a mind reader. Did she want to believe he could help her? Possibly, but she was still on the fence about the whole thing. The word _mutant_ still pissed her off to a degree. But seeing the determined look in Charles' eyes, Jerilyn had to wonder if he really was willing to help her out. While she _could_ control blood on a smaller scale, using it in large amounts weakened her severely. It was horrendous.

"You think you can help me?" Jerilyn asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You've got a gift, Jerilyn," Charles stated. "I'd be more than willing to give you the proper guidance you need."

Guidance. It was such a simple word. It could hold no significance to some, but it could mean the world to others. Was Jerilyn ready to give _guidance_ a chance?

 **°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°**

Hemokinesis. It's a rather dark form of known psionic abilities, seen as barbaric and savage by many. While not very common, it always seemed to pop up every once in a while. In Jerilyn's case, she was the first mutant in over two decades to possess a blood-related mutation. In her eyes, over time, she saw that as quite the honor.

A plus side of having hemokinetic abilities seemed to be the endless uses it possessed. Jerilyn could weaponize her own blood, using it as both defense and offense. She could also manipulate other living beings, her victims' bodies becoming puppets to her. That was one of Jerilyn's favorite techniques.

Sadly, Jerilyn had to be careful with how she used her mutation. If she drew too much blood from herself, she'd die. Should she cause too much damage to her victims, she could essentially kill them, too. Hemokinesis was essentially a power trip waiting to happen. As much as Jerilyn enjoyed using her powers, over the years it took her to control them, she had to understand the risks that came with it.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **Not the best first chapter, but I think it's at least decent, don't you think? If you've got any ideas on how this could be improved, be sure to let me know. Constructive criticism is always welcome here!**

 **Do I own anything in the MCU? No. No I don't. All I own are my OCs, my subplots, and the bamboo plants in my room. If you've got ideas for an OC or a subplot, be sure to PM me or leave a review.**

 **Side Note** **: "So far, we have an idea of what Jerilyn's powers are. She can weaponize/manipulate blood. Honestly, I got the idea of hemokinesis from the anime, Deadman Wonderland. The show only has one season, but I was rewatching it and the idea just popped into my head, ya know? So, for now, I have two official weapons Jerilyn can use her own blood for: 1. On her forearms and hands, if an open wound is present, Jerilyn can manipulate her blood to become scythes (similar to the character Senji from Deadman Wonderland); 2. She can also create "blood bombs", concentrated balls of blood filled with explosive kinetic energy. Those abilities will be shown later in the story, though.**

 **If you guys have any questions, don't hesitate to let me know."**

 **Leave a random fact in the review section if you want. It could be on something new or on something old. It's completely up to you guys.**

 **Thank you guys so much!**

 **Harper Sy**


	2. Chapter 2: Management

_Just because you have superpowers, that doesn't mean your love life would be perfect. I don't think superpowers automatically means there won't be any personal problems, family problems, or even money problems. I just tried to write characters who are human beings who also have superpowers._

-Stan Lee

* * *

Twirling her pencil in her hand, Jerilyn let out a long sigh. She'd spent the last half hour in a mental block, unable to figure out what she had to do. It was frustrating, to say the least. Jerilyn felt like she'd done _every_ thing to get out of the block, but nothing was working. It didn't matter how many breaks she gave herself, or if she chose to have a light snack or even a cup of _tea_. Her brain just wouldn't let her get past it.

Scowling, she slammed her pencil on her desk, feeling the frustration start to bubble over into anger. What could she _possibly_ do to get out of that mental block? It's not like she could call someone for help. She'd been chosen — _specifically_ — for the task, and if she couldn't get it done, then she'd be in serious trouble.

 _Of all the times to get stuck,_ Jerilyn thought bitterly.

Standing up, she winced slightly at the squeak her chair let out.

Letting out another sigh, she left her workroom, hoping maybe a walk could help her.

 **°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°**

New York, in Jerilyn's mind, was a fairly interesting state. Filled with millions of people, all of them had a destination. They all had somewhere they needed to go. On top of that, there was the seemingly endless supply of _noise_. Jerilyn couldn't say she _enjoyed_ the constant sounds, but it was something she had to live with. Besides, she spent a good portion of her childhood in New York, attending Charles' special private school. The _last_ thing Jerilyn wanted was to leave the state she came to love.

Turning a corner, she let out a huff. There were more people out than usual. They were all pushing and shoving, trying to get to their destination by any means necessary. Jerilyn shoved her hands in her pockets, easily maneuvering out of the way of oncoming people.

All the busy people, going to and from all their daily activities, made Jerilyn's mind wander. It made her wonder what they were all doing. How did each person's life set them apart from everyone else? What choices had to be made in their lives to get them where they are? Those questions swirled around in Jerilyn's head, filling her with curiosity, giving her ideas on what each person _might_ be doing. If they were dressed nicely, maybe they were successful lawyers, or businessmen and women, or had some connections to Wall Street. If their outfits were fairly nice, they probably worked for a well put-together business. Other than that, the people of New York, a vast majority, though not all, seemed content wearing the clothes they felt most comfortable in.

In Jerilyn's case, since she worked from her apartment more often than not, she tended to wear more casual clothes. The only times she ever wore anything nice was during video chats or the rare times she had to go down to the office. Those days were always the worst. Jerilyn would have to wake early — a little after six in the morning — to catch a couple buses and take it all the way to where her work was, all the way across Brooklyn. It put a lot of unnecessary stress on Jerilyn.

 _How long do you plan on staying out here?_ she thought. _You don't have your wallet, so it's not like you can go buy anything. Not to mention you've got a deadline coming up._

As much as she hated thinking like that, Jerilyn knew it was true. She did have a deadline on her assignment, and since she didn't have her wallet, she couldn't buy anything while she was out. Jerilyn was almost tempted to scold herself, but forgetting such an item wasn't a big deal in her eyes.

Letting out a huff of air, Jerilyn felt frustration start to bubble up in her again. Taking a walk was supposed to help her out of her roadblock, but it wasn't working. She was still drawing up blanks on how everything should go down, and the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her boss.

 _You've never disappointed your boss before,_ Jerilyn thought, _and the thought of doing so now is unacceptable. Go back home and try working out drafts. If you can do that, then you'll get an idea of what you want._

Honestly, that was probably the best idea Jerilyn had for a majority of the day. If she couldn't come up with an immediate solution, then she'd have to start from the _very_ bottom in hopes of finding an end result.

 **°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°**

It was kind of weird, living such a _mundane_ life. Jerilyn, in her teens, used to think such a life would be out of her reach. Her mother, Sophia, had completely abandoned the idea of her daughter living normally. In fact, the woman believed, wholeheartedly, that Jerilyn was no longer her child.* Apparently, Sophia's mind concluded that, because of her child's mutation, there was no way they could _ever_ have a relationship or hopes for a bright future.

When Jerilyn found that out, that her mother had essentially given up on her, it hurt. She felt as though she lost the one person she could ever trust. Sophia had been the biggest influence in Jerilyn's life, and with that abandonment, there was an emptiness that developed in the teen's chest. It seemed nothing could _ever_ make that feeling go away. Charles helped give a distraction, allowing Jerilyn to attend his mutant school. It was only through that period in her life that the teen learned how to control her abilities, get her basic education out of the way, and learn how to function in the world. All of those things were provided by a complete stranger. If it hadn't been for Charles' compassion, God only knows what Sophia would have done to her daughter.

It was also through Charles' school that Jerilyn learned and came to accept her mutation. Hemokinesis was such an odd power, so unheard of in the community, that many of the students at the school refused to associate with the teen. Unlike other common psychic abilities, like telepathy or telekinesis, blood manipulation seemed to have a dark reputation. Since Jerilyn could control practically all organic life, that meant she could be seen as a great threat. She was looked at differently, observed at a safe distance. Like it'd matter, though. Jerilyn's _own_ body could be used as a weapon against opponents. On top of that, once she got more familiar with her abilities, she could do so much more.

Jerilyn eventually learned how to control the blood flow of other people. If she tried hard enough, she could get someone close to death by letting them drown in their blood. If she manipulated her own to a certain extent, she could heal herself. The plus side of her abilities would be she could do anything to anyone. One of the downsides would be her imminent death if she used too much of her own blood. But she was learning every day. Charles helped with that as a teen, and as an adult, Jerilyn was getting even better. She'd make sure her hemokinesis was perfect. She owed herself that much.

* * *

 **(A/N):**

 **First, I know this chapter is possibly shorter compared to the last chapter, but this was the best I could come up with. I know it's not much, but I hope you guys can find something decent in it, anyway. Second, I know this chapter took a bit too long to post, but I found myself really battling with writer's block. I was really trying to find something that would make this chapter worthwhile, but it ended up like this, so. . .**

 **Just leave constructive criticism where you think it's due, okay? I'd really appreciate the extra help from you guys.**

 **I own nothing in the MCU. All I own are my OCs, my subplots, and the bed I sleep on. If you've got ideas for OCs or subplots, be sure to PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.**

 **Side Note** **: "Marvel Studies, 20th Century Fox, and Sony Pictures. Those are the three mainframes when it comes to showing Marvel movies. And while each studio has their own touch on said movies, at least with the ones they have legal rights over, they all have one thing in common: Stan Lee. He was the mastermind behind so many of our favorite superheroes; and it was through his creativity that we have all these movies. The Avengers, Spider-Man, the X-Men, Black Panther, and so much more. He gave so many fond memories to so many people.**

 **Sadly, however, the internet blew up when news of Stan Lee's death started circulating. It's hard to believe that someone as legendary as him could possibly be dead, and I didn't want to think something like that could happen to him. But he lived a very long, very fulfilling life. He gave us so much in his career and I doubt there's any way we can ever repay him.**

 **Stan Lee will live forever in the lives and hearts of everyone he's touched. Thank you for all the great times."**

 **Again, leave constructive criticism where you think it's due.**

 **Be sure to leave random stories or facts in the reviews.**

 **Thank you all so, so much.**

 **Harper Sy**


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